The Thief and The Archaeologist: Binding Arguments
by Cleo the Muse
Summary: Continues on in the fashion of the preceding 'The Thief' and 'The Archaeologist' series. The bracelets are off, but Vala and 'her' Daniel are still connected.
1. Mitchell's Mission

**Mitchell's Mission **by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Kids  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: Abuse of metaphors. Not really anything else, as Mitchell watches his mouth.  
Episodes: Missing scene "The Ties That Bind". Minor spoilers for "Heroes", "Into the Fire", and "Hathor".  
Synopsis: Continues on in the fashion of the preceding "The Thief" and "The Archaeologist" series (plural). The bracelets are off, but Vala and 'her' Daniel are still connected. Poor Daniel!  
Notes: Second posting, following FFnet's screw-up of the first... Finally decided how to proceed with the series, thanks to the inspiration of seeing Vala on SG-1's "Crusade". Yay!  
Status: Completed as of March 05, 2006

* * *

**Mitchell's Mission**

"_Perseverance is not a long race;  
__it is many short races one after another._"  
--Walter Elliot, _The Spiritual Life_

"So if 'my' SG-1 was the original band, what instrument did _I_ play?"

Cameron Mitchell grinned. "Guitar, of course, sir," he replied.

"Not drums?"

"Nah, that'd have to be Teal'c. He's great at beating on stuff." In fact, it was terribly easy to imagine Teal'c pounding on a percussion set and casually tossing his drumsticks in the air when he was done.

"Hmm... good point," Jack O'Neill mused in agreement. "I suppose Daniel's the lead singer?"

"I was thinking of having him on keyboards, since he's such a multi-talented guy," Mitchell replied.

"Oh. No, that's Carter on the keyboards. She's always playing with her doohickeys, so I'd say a synthesizer is more her speed. Daniel's the one who does all the talking, _he_ has to be lead singer."

"Right. General Hammond was the band manager?"

"As much a manager as we'd let him. Of course, the Tok'ra kept trying to get free concerts out of us, so we were glad to have him run interference for us." Mitchell laughed lightly, but the two-star general was on a roll. "Played gigs in some of the strangest places in the galaxy, and one or two outside of it. Some loved us, some hated us, but Carter and Daniel managed to pick up groupies pretty much everywhere we went. Did you ever hear about the people of PX-something-or-another, the ones who thought we were fertility gods 'cause we wore green?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I read that mission report," the colonel agreed. _I only crammed every report I could get my hands on while I was at the hospital_. It _had_ to have been in there somewhere, right?

"We swore after that to _never_ let Daniel anywhere _near_ another fertility goddess," the general finished.

"Was that before or after--"

"Nah, that red-headed witch was already a Hathor-sicle by then," O'Neill interrupted. "Apparently Isis was some sort of mother-goddess, too, but she was already dead when Danny found her, so that hardly counts. I gotta say, keeping him away from fertility goddesses has been a whole lot easier than keeping him alive, so--"

A carefully cleared throat interrupted him, causing the two officers to turn toward the tech sergeant who'd made the noise. "Excuse me, sirs, but the wormhole back to the SGC has now been open for five minutes. General Landry said to tell you that the electricity bill is high enough as it is."

"Ah, nuts," O'Neill sighed. "Well, back to work with us, Mitchell. For what it's worth, I think you'd make a pretty good guitarist."

Surprised, Mitchell watched in shocked silence as the general walked down the hall toward the Alpha Site 'Gate room. O'Neill had just passed through the door when Cam's brain finally engaged his feet and propelled him in the same direction. He caught up to the older man at the base of the Stargate itself and the pair stepped through together.

They were met at the bottom of the SGC's ramp by an enigmatically smiling General Landry. They'd had a chance to shower and change out of their flightsuits before returning, giving no clue as to what reason they'd had for haring off to the Alpha Site, yet Landry's expression seemed to indicate he had a good idea why they'd gone there.

"Enjoy your joy-ride, Jack?" he asked, proving Cameron's theory correct. _Does _anything _get past this guy?_

"Yes," O'Neill answered. "First time I've been up in one of those things for a while."

"Me too, sir," Cam piped up. "First time in a while... well, and had a good time, too. Sir."

"Right," Landry replied in his typical dry manner. "Well, Jack, the President's been looking for you. Something about a meeting with the Joint Chiefs--"

"Oi," the taller man moaned sighed, closing eyes. "Have _Prometheus_ beam me back to the Pentagon, then."

"They're already standing by."

"Oooo-kay. Well, guess I'll be seeing you boys later, then. Don't have too much fun without me."

Landry gave a little huff of laughter. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Sure." O'Neill accepted his locator beacon and hat from a helpful airman. "You know, Mitchell, I happen to know of a good singer who just got his solo tour cancelled. You might want to check with him."

Cam grinned. "I'll be sure to do that, sir."

After O'Neill had beamed away, Landry shook his head. "Dare I even ask what that was all about?"

"Just discussing the status of the band, sir," the colonel answered.

"You don't give up, do you, Mitchell?"

"No, sir. People who give up don't get anything done."

"How terribly profound," Landry snorted. "Isolation labs."

SG-15 had just arrived in the 'Gate room for their scheduled departure, so Cam thanked the general and stepped into the hall. Although a glance at his watch revealed it was just past eight o'clock, he wasn't at all surprised Daniel Jackson was still on-base, messing around with the stuff brought back from Avalon. The archaeologist's penchant for working late hours was just as famous as his many brushes--and occasional out-right collisions--with death.

Climbing the stairs to the storage and isolation level, Cam flagged down a scientist who looked to be going out for the evening. When the woman indicated Daniel had gone to Doctor Lee's office to pick up an analysis of one of the artifacts, he thanked her and headed toward the nearest elevator. The doors opened just as he got there and Daniel walked out, already perusing the documents in his hands.

"Jackson!" Cam called, pulling up beside him. Unable to resist, he asked, "Where's the girlfriend?"

"She left about an hour ago," Daniel answered, not rising to the bait.

Intentionally provoking the scientist probably wasn't the best way to convince him to rejoin SG-1, but Mitchell couldn't help himself. "Man, I missed the going away party? I hope you saved me a piece of cake."

"Now that she's gone I can finally get some work done around here."

"Yeah, about that... the whole SG-1 thing? You never gave me an answer." _And here comes the reaction_, he mentally grinned as Daniel stopped in the doorway of one of the labs. "What do you say we make it official?" The reaction he got was not at all what he expected. The archaeologist swayed, grabbed for the doorframe, and would have hit the ground hard if Cam hadn't caught him enough to ease his descent.

Doctor Lam arrived with a nurse and two orderlies only a few minutes after he'd called for a medical team. "What happened?" she demanded, and for a brief moment Cam was taken aback by how fierce the short woman was.

"He just fell over. No warning or anything, he just collapsed," he explained.

"Pulse is erratic and respiration is a little low. Has he eaten recently?"

"Two hours ago!"

Carolyn dug her penlight out of her pocket and checked for pupil response. "And how long has it been since Vala left?"

"About an hour. You don't think those bracelets have anything to do with this, do you? I mean, Vala took 'em off of them a couple of hours ago."

The CMO motioned for the orderlies to load the unconscious man on the gurney, giving the nurse instructions to start an IV. As she clipped the light onto her lab coat, she turned back to Cameron. "His symptoms are strikingly similar, Colonel, and while I'm not going to rule out the possibility that there's something else going on here, I highly suggest you go to whatever planet Vala left for and bring her back as quickly as possible." Turning on heel, she followed the medical team back to the elevator.

_Well, now I know how Doctor Fraiser got her nickname 'the little dictator', _Cam marveled to himself, before shaking his head to clear the errant thought and racing to the stairwell. Two flights of stairs brought him to a corridor not far from General Landry's office. The door was open, but he just barely hesitated before charging into the room.

"Come in," Landry commented dryly, looking up from one of the many stacks of paper covering his desk. "In a hurry, Mitchell?"

"Yes sir," Cam managed, resting his hands on his knees briefly as he regained his breath. "Sir, Jackson just collapsed in the hallway. Permission to--"

"Permission granted. Walter!"

The white-haired sergeant popped around the doorframe. "Sir?"

"Get SG-13 to the 'Gate room ASAP."

"Yes, sir," Harriman answered and disappeared toward the control room.

"I knew that woman was trouble the moment she stepped through the 'Gate." Landry looked up. "What are you still doing here? Gear up and get to the 'Gate room!"

"Thank you, sir!"

Grateful he'd chosen to wear _green_ BDUs that morning, Cam raced to the locker room and armory, making it back to the 'Gate room in just under five minutes. Colonel Dixon and the rest of SG-13--'butter bar' Lieutenant Clemson and Sergeants Bosworth and Wells--were already waiting, the other colonel giving the control room a nod as soon as he saw him arrive.

"The general hasn't briefed us, Mitchell. You wanna tell us what's going on?"

"We're going to retrieve Vala Mal Doran--"

"That alien whack job?"

"Jackson collapsed in the hall less than an hour after she left, and Dr. Lam's pretty certain the 'whack job' had something to do with it."

Immediately, all of SG-13 looked sober, exchanging with one another a weighted look. After the noise of the Stargate's activation had cleared, Wells said, "Anything for SG-1, sir."

"Amen to that," agreed Dixon, leading the way up the ramp.

On the other side of the wormhole, Cam glanced around at the scrubby terrain and well-worn path leading off into a tangle of growth. "You do realize he's not _technically_ on SG-1 right now."

Dixon's eyebrows rose, but Wells answered first. "Of course he's not, sir. And Teal'c isn't a Jaffa, either."

_Oh, yeah, even the other teams are rooting for me_, Cam grinned. "Right. Let's go find our alien whack job."

"Find who?" asked a sultry voice. Wheeling about, they located Vala Mal Doran peering cautiously over a brush-covered boulder on the other side of the now-deactivated Stargate. "And where's my Daniel? Why didn't he come with you?" she pouted, standing and placing a hand on her hip.

"Jackson's currently out cold in the infirmary," Cam explained, stepping cautiously toward her but maintaining his ready grip on his weapon. "We're hoping _you_ might have some idea of why."

"Well, it's certainly nothing _I _did," Vala protested, emerging from her hiding place.

"Then why were you waiting for us, ma'am?" asked Dixon.

She shrugged one shoulder. "I was waiting for _Daniel _to realize what a _horrible_ mistake he'd made in letting me go and come here to profess his undying love and devotion--" Breaking off abruptly, she swayed and grabbed for the boulder. Recognizing the signs, Cam leapt forward and caught her before she could hit the ground.

"Looks like the doc was right," he muttered, checking the unconscious woman's pulse.

"How come I never have alien chicks swooning into my arms?" Bosworth asked.

"You're married," answered Dixon, Clemson, and Wells.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Yay! I'm back, after a great LOOOOONG hiatus. Boss had the kid and will be returning to work soon, so my workload should ease up a bit. I've already helped myself tremendously by a) quitting my part-time job to concentrate solely on the full-time one, and b) delaying my return to college until the Fall semester. No regrets here on either one.  
As always, big thanks to Moon Catchin' for the transcript, Gateworld for the locations of the various labs, offices, and facilities of the SGC.  
Lastly, check out my new blog! 360 dot yahoo dot com slash cleothemuse! (minus the exclamation mark, of course)


	2. Carolyn's Command

**Carolyn's Command** by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Teens  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: One tiny little cuss word, tiny bit of innuendo.  
Episodes: Missing scene "The Ties That Bind". Teeny tiny little references to "Need", "Legacy", and "Lifeboat".  
Synopsis: Continues on in the fashion of the preceding "The Thief" and "The Archaeologist" series (plural). The bracelets are off, but Vala and 'her' Daniel are still connected. Poor Daniel!  
Notes: After a HUGE bout of Writer's Block AND a crashed hard drive, here it is! And looking forward to much more Daniel and Vala starting July 14!  
Status: Completed as of June 17, 2006

* * *

**Carolyn's Command**

_"When Caesar says, "Do this," it is performed."  
__--Antony, from William Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar"_

"Good morning, Doctor Lam!"

Carolyn smiled at the too-perky-for-this-time-of-morning Doctor Grant. "Good morning, Lindsey. Any plagues or pandemics break out last night?"

Grant grinned. "No ma'am, the only 'breaking out' that occurred in here last night was Captain Douglas."

"The calamine didn't work either, did it?"

"No, ma'am," the older woman replied, rocking back slightly on her Army-issue pumps. "I'd have to say he and SG-3 are having a 'rash' of bad luck."

"You're awful," Carolyn groaned, unlocking the door to her office and retrieving the files left in her box overnight. "What about Daniel and Vala?"

"Slept like babies," Grant answered, shoving her hands into her lab coat pockets and leaning against the door frame. "That means _you_ get the joy of them waking up this morning… which should be anytime now, I might add."

"Fun fun," she sighed, dropping her purse on the desk and grabbing her lab coat from the antique rack standing in the corner. _One of the few useful things Dad's ever gotten for me_, she thought grumpily, glaring at the furniture piece which had also graced her office at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Mornings just weren't her thing.

"Did we get the lab work back from Sergeant Mallory's 'alien hay fever'?"

Grant pointed at one of the folders now adorning the CMO's desk. "Hay fever it is, alien it is not."

"Domestic?"

"Garden-variety rhinitis," the major confirmed. "Probably got it while mowing the grass over the weekend. It's been unusually dry these last few weeks."

"I can't complain," Carolyn answered. "After spending the last five years in Atlanta..."

"That humidity will get you, won't it? I was stationed at Fort Benning for nearly that long, so it feels like Paradise in Colorado."

"Pretty much. I can't say I'm looking forward to winter, but summer is heavenly here." She frowned at the manila folders.

"There's nothing Earth-shattering in there, ma'am, if you want them to wait until _after_ you've had your morning coffee to tackle the paperwork."

Despite herself, Carolyn smiled. "Thanks, Lindsey. I'll be sure to--"

"Hello?" called a voice from the main infirmary area. "Anybody awake in here?"

"Just barely, sir," answered Grant, leaning around the doorframe to peer at the newcomer. Turning back to her supervisor, she rapped her knuckles on the metal facing. "I'll go get you some coffee. You look like you need it."

"Gee, thanks for the compliment." _Yet another reason why I don't do mornings_, she frowned, rubbing at her still-tired eyes. She switched her computer on and turned back to the door in time to see Colonel Mitchell's head pop around the corner. "Goooooood morning!" he grinned.

"It's morning, all right," she answered, wondering why everyone at the SGC was so chipper before the crack of dawn. "What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"Just checking to see if the lovebirds have woken up yet," he said casually, taking up the same wall-supporting position Major Grant had just vacated.

"Not yet," she replied. "Lindsey says they slept through the night. Given that it took 'em nine hours to wake up the _last_ time this happened, we expect both of 'em up to wake up any time soon."

"So you _do_ think it's the bracelets again," Mitchell grinned.

"I'd say it's a pretty safe bet." _And goodness knows this place just _loves_ its bets._ She'd recently heard mutterings of a pool with stakes on how long it would be before the SGC's former science department head got tired of playing with computers at Area 51 and returned to the front lines.

"But Vala took the bracelets off," Mitchell pointed out.

"So? The bracelets merely stimulated the physiological reactions, but what if whatever they experienced in their shared dream-state caused the effects to transfer to their physiology?"

"You're saying that whatever freaky things happened to them while they were in the Ori galaxy caused this?"

She shot him a bemused look at his creative paraphrasing. "I'm saying it's _possible_. Stranger things _have_ happened around here, I'm sure, especially to the world's most accident-prone archaeologist."

Mitchell chuckled. "Well, there was the time Jackson had that slug in his head that made him go nuts, the time he got high on a sarcophagus that made him go nuts, or the time twelve different personalities were uploaded to his brain--"

"I get the picture!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in mock-exasperation.

"--that made him go nuts," Mitchell finished.

"Very funny," she muttered, then sighed in relief as Major Grant appeared in the door holding a steaming mug. "Thanks, Lindsey."

"We all have our vices, Carolyn," the other woman smiled in return, handing her the aromatic brew. "Also, Logan says Doctor Jackson and Vala are stirring. Looks like they're finally waking up."

Even though the coffee was just a little hot, Carolyn took a swig to fortify herself, then pushed away from her desk. "Are you ready for battle, Colonel?" she asked.

"I can handle Jackson," he answered, then amended, "I think. It's _Vala_ I'm scared of. You mention her name and SG-3 looks like they're trying to pass a kidney stone. SG-12 suddenly finds something else to do that gets them _far_ away." Following her out of the office, Mitchell added, "Come to think of it, I think Jackson's the only one _not_ scared of her."

Carolyn snorted, stopping at Vala's bed long enough to note pulse and respiration readings well in the norm for someone sleeping lightly. Even as she watched, the unconscious thief shifted slightly, murmuring. "I'm not scared of her, Colonel," she pointed out, moving on to Daniel and noting similar readings.

"No offense, ma'am, but you're a woman. Not _quite_ the same... though I wouldn't be surprised if her door swings both ways, if you know what I mean."

_Did he just say what I think he said?_ Carolyn gaped, but any reply she might've made was cut off by a groggy voice muttering, "Jack?"

"Not quite," Mitchell answered, leaning toward the awakening archaeologist. When the first slits of bleary blue eyes peeked out, the colonel said, "Good morning, sunshine."

Daniel visibly jumped. "Gah!" he exclaimed.

"How you feelin'?"

"Better," Daniel answered, brow furrowing in confusion and just a smidgeon of suspicion as Carolyn nudged her way past the colonel to get closer to her patient. "What happened?"

_You want the facts or the educated guess?_ she inwardly retorted.

"We're not exactly sure," Mitchell replied, cutting off her own response and earning himself a glare. Suitably cowed, he amended, "But Dr. Lam here thinks it may have something to do with those alien cuffs."

Obviously the answer he had been dreading to hear, Daniel swiftly sat up, and asked, "Why does one assume that?"

"Well…you were completely unresponsive when we brought you in," Carolyn began, glancing up at the now-awakening alien female, "but your condition suddenly improved when _she_ came back."

His face the very picture of abject horror, the archaeologist slowly turned to face the dark-haired thief. "Miss me?" she grinned. Carolyn thought it very unfair that a woman could exude such feminine allure in scrubs.

Daniel dropped his head into his upturned hands and muttered something unintelligible. "What was that?" Mitchell queried mischievously. "I didn't catch that."

Dragging his hands dramatically across his face, the linguist answered, "Ah, it basically translates to 'like a thorn in my side'."

Vala crossed the space between the two beds and draped herself across his shoulder. "Oh, come on, Daniel, you know I speak fluent Goa'uld." She smiled at Mitchell and Carolyn. "What he _actually_ said was, 'like a hand in his--'"

"_Sand_," Daniel corrected quickly, sliding off the bed to put it between himself and her. "_Sand_ in my, uh, shorts."

_If I don't stop this now..._ "All right, that's enough out of the both of you! Lindsey, would you give me a sand, er _hand_ examining these two so I can get them out of my infirmary?"

"What's to examine?" the archaeologist asked, crossing his arms and doing his best to look defiant. "I'm fine, she's fine, we're both fine... now can we drag her off to Dr. Lee's lab so we can try to find out why the hell we're still connected?"

"No. You were unconscious for nearly nine hours and--ah! Don't interrupt!" Carolyn poked a finger against his chest, stopping Daniel's protest before it could start. "_And_ you managed to slip your way out of getting checked out the last time this happened. We might have missed something that could have told us more about your reaction to the bracelets." Brushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, the CMO motioned Dr. Grant to come over to the bed. "Now, Lindsey is going to check you over _before_ I'll release you from the infirmary, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed.

She rounded on the still lingering Mitchell. "And _you_, Colonel. Don't you have somewhere else you should be?"

Looking apologetic, he nodded. "I guess I'll just go, uh, check in with the control room."

"Do that." Feeling thoroughly pleased with herself, Carolyn reached out and took Vala by the arm, guiding her back to her own bed. When the thief was seated once more, the doctor drew the curtain around the bed. Turning to face the now-sulking patient, she steeled herself for battle with the stubborn alien.

"It's not fair," Vala pouted quietly.

"Excuse me? What's not fair?"

"You! How do you manage to control both Daniel _and_ Colonel Mitchell?"

Carolyn smiled.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Miss me? I did too! Hopefully it won't take me so long to write the next chapter... Stupid Writer's block... Stupid crashed hard drive!  
Big lovely thanks to everyone who voted for "The Archaeologist" in the 2006 Isis Awards, and to all you lovely people who nominated my 'fics for the 2006 Stargate Fan Awards! You rock.  
As always, big thanks to Moon Catchin' for the episode transcript.  
Lastly, check out my blog! 360 dot yahoo dot com slash cleothemuse! (minus the exclamation mark, of course)


	3. Arlos' Arrangement

**Arlos' Arrangement** by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Teens  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: A few little cuss words and one impending shipper "Squee!" at the end.  
Episodes: Missing scene for "The Ties That Bind". Vague reference to the movie _Stargate_ and a passing mention of the "kid brother" Mitchell referenced _very_ briefly in "Camelot".  
Synopsis: Continues on in the fashion of the preceding "The Thief" and "The Archaeologist" series (plural). The bracelets are off, but Vala and 'her' Daniel are still connected. Poor Daniel!  
Status: Completed as of July 8, 2006

* * *

**Arlos' Arrangement**

_"Oh high is the price of parenthood,  
__And daughters may cost you double.  
__You dare not forget, as you thought you could,  
__That youth is a plague and a trouble."  
__-- Phyliss McGinley, "Homework for Annabelle"_

_She's been gone too long_, Arlos of Adora sighed to himself, staring at the box which had once contained a ceremonial necklace belonging to the planet's reigning matriarch. Lying beside the case was an elegantly penned letter which stated in excruciatingly polite detail _exactly_ what would happen to Arlos if she didn't have her necklace back in time for the marriage of her youngest daughter next month.

"Mother", as she was generally called by her loyal subjects, was a plump little woman barely even Arlos' own diminutive height, with a sweet face and a matronly disposition. She was _not_, however, a woman with whom to trifle. Unless he could somehow get the necklace back from the sticky fingers of Vala Mal Doran, Arlos doubted there was any planet in the galaxy where he could be safe from Mother's wrath.

"Uncle?" came a deep voice from the doorway. "Uncle, two strangers were asking for you in the city market."

"By name?" Arlos asked, daring to hope.

"Not exactly. They said they were looking for an expert on Goa'uld technologies and heard Adora was the place to look."

He smiled to himself. "I interpret that to be a 'yes', Nephew."

The muscular man rolled his shoulders. "They await you in your... testing room."

Arlos waved dismissively. Though his sister's only son his nephew may be, he never quite understood his uncle's obsession with experimenting with the gadgets left behind by the Goa'uld Ra when he'd abandoned Adora generations ago. Few other Adorans understood either, but Mother saw at least some use in his hobby.

Cleaning heirloom jewelry, for instance.

Voices wafted through the open door of the testing room, but Arlos didn't have the best hearing at his age. It wasn't until he got closer that he heard a voice with a rather curious twang to it say, "...Forty-five minutes away from your girlfriend, you're gonna turn into a pumpkin and I'm gonna have to haul your ass back there."

Though not entirely sure what a "pumpkin" was, Arlos felt fairly confident the strangely-accented voice was making a rather veiled reference to the _kor'mak_ and the limited period of separation it allowed before adversely affecting the wearers. Entering the room, he gave the two plainly-dressed men a cursory inspection. Similar in height, build, coloring, and handsome features, Arlos guessed them to be mercenaries or traders by their appearance. _Brothers, at that_, he decided. _Maybe as distant as cousins._

"Gentlemen!" he exclaimed, drawing their attention.

"How can I help you?"

"Well, we require your... expertise," explained the one with a scruffy beard.

Arlos frowned inwardly as a quick glance at each man's wrists revealed no _kor'mak_. "Expertise?" he questioned, seating himself behind his desk. Perhaps neither of these young men was Vala's latest victim, but rather advocates for a third brother currently ensnared by the wily thief.

"Well, you are the foremost expert on alien technology on this planet," Scruffy tried again, reminding Arlos briefly of Vala's frequent innocent-eyed attempts at distracting him with pleasantries.

_Of course, he'd be more charming if I weren't the_ only _expert on alien technologies on this planet_, he smiled to himself. Instead, he replied, "Foremost? Well, I don't know if I'm the foremost expert... I might be among the top five..."

Grinning, the clean-shaven one reached into his coat and drew out two recognizable objects and dropped them on the desk. "Are you familiar with these?" he asked in that curious accent of his, as he and his brother took their seats.

"Yes… yes… I actually owned a pair myself up until not too long ago," Arlos replied. _So if they aren't here to find out how to _remove_ the bracelets..._

"So you know how they work?"

"Of course. The bracelets create a physiological bond between the wearers. They were used by the Goa'uld."

Scruffy suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Uh, have you ever heard of the physiological bond being sustained? Say, after the bracelets were removed?"

_Oh, so _that'_s their problem, _Arlos realized. _And from the look on his face, I'd say Scruffy is the lucky fellow._ Nonchalantly, he suggested the possibility of a sudden surge of power causing a transfer of properties. The look of understanding shared by the brothers indicated he was on the right track.

"In the unlikely event this did happen," Accent began, "Would you be able to sever the connection?"

"I might be able to."

Scruffy suddenly looked relieved. "Great! Could you tell us?"

_And miss my only remaining chance to get Mother's necklace back?_ He leaned forward conspiratorially, watching as the two younger men unconsciously drew closer as well. "How is she?"

"Who?" Accent asked unconvincingly, then continued to pretend he didn't know _exactly _whom. As Arlos rose, threatening to leave, he hastily admitted the brothers did, indeed, now "a" Vala.

"I need to see her," he told them.

"Why?" asked Scruffy suspiciously.

_Jealousy or protectiveness?_ he wondered, curious that one of the beautiful thief's victims seemed to actually be leaping to her defense. "It's not what you think," Arlos back-pedaled. "I'm not after revenge. The truth is, the bracelets weren't the only thing she took from me. She also stole… my heart," he finished with an inward impish grin, wanting to see how far this jealousy streak extended.

Much to his surprise, Scruffy and Accent looked surprised, not upset. "Excuse me?" asked the latter of the pair with that curious speech impediment his brother didn't seem to share.

As his many nieces and nephews could attest, Arlos was nothing if not a terrific storyteller. Illustrating with his hands, he began, "I remember it as if it were yesterday..." He chortled inwardly as the brothers' expressions changed from shock to horror as the story grew more absurd.

"Okay, great, thanks!" Accent interrupted, looking more than just a little ill. "We got the picture!" Under his breath, he muttered, "Very vivid, very disturbing picture."

Scruffy closed his eyes and sighed, looking for all the world the put-upon martyr. Feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for this young man who was just as much a victim of Vala's beauty and treachery as he, Arlos wrapped up his little fabrication, asking the brothers to return with Vala in exchange for his help. Thieving liar though she was, he still cared very much for her, as she had been the daughter he'd never had. Aside from needing Mother's necklace back to spare his own life, he had to make sure she was well, at least.

He didn't have long to wait. Less than two candlemarks after their departure, the brothers returned with Vala Mal Doran in tow. Not trusting the kleptomaniac to keep her hands off of the testing room's many antiques and gadgets, Arlos' burly nephew and one of his equally-massive friends guarded the visitors while Arlos pretended to be busy elsewhere.

It was all part of the game, of course; he was listening right outside the door.

After a long moment of silence broken only by the shuffling of feet and the rustle of cloth, Vala's very distinctive tones announced, "This is a _total_ waste of time, you know. Arlos isn't going to be able to help us... he's the one who told me they were _marriage_ bracelets."

"Uh, yeah," Accent interrupted, "told _you_. A few hours ago, he told me and Jackson they create a 'physiological bond' between the wearers. Sounded to me like he knew what he was talking about."

"Oh, please, Arlos absolutely _adores_ me. Why would he have any reason to lie to me?"

"Turnabout's fair play?" suggested Scruffy, now identified as "Jackson".

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The liar got lied to," he continued in a slightly sing-songy tone.

"Works for me," agreed Accent.

"Yeah, me too."

"What makes you think I can't tell the truth?" Vala huffed.

"Because you can't," the brothers deadpanned in unison.

"Vala, you are the very _definition_ of a pathological liar," Accent added.

"And while not _everything_ you say is a lie, finding the truth in what you _do _say is a little like... seeking a needle in a haystack," Jackson concluded.

"Like finding a Tok'ra at a Goa'uld bragging contest?"

"Ooh, nice one, Mitchell."

"Thanks," answered Mitchell, formerly known as Accent. "Like bulls-eyeing a womp rat?"

_Womp rat?_ Not a species with which Arlos was familiar, but he made a mental note to do a little research on it later.

"Don't let Teal'c hear you talk like that," Jackson countered. "Like finding a contact lens on Abydos."

"Tried that, I take it?"

"Yeah, didn't work so well. Glad I brought my glasses with me that time."

_Very well-traveled for mercenaries_, Arlos thought, _and curious that they know the world of Ra's demise_. Though he was beginning to have doubts about the identities of the "brothers", the short-lived banter was very... well, sibling-like.

Vala was still on the defensive, however. "I'll have you know that on some worlds, I am considered a woman of my word!"

"And which word might that be? The word you give them _before_ you rob them blind or after?"

A noisy exhalation of air told Arlos that Vala had crossed her arms across her chest indignantly and was now refusing to speak to either of the men. Taking his cue, Arlos stepped away from the wall before turning back to and walking through the open door.

The sight of the raven-haired thief standing with folded arms almost succeeded in cracking his emotionless facade. _Vala, my dear, I know you too well at times_, he sighed inwardly.

It was hardly a surprise that she immediately acted timidly frightened as she hugged him and exclaimed, "I thought I'd never see you again!"

_Only because you never thought you'd get caught_, Arlos mentally corrected, then said flatly, "Hello, Vala."

She wasted no time in launching into her hastily-fabricated sob-story, "They overpowered me--some five, six mercenaries--one morning on my way to see you, and they demanded that I steal the bracelets... under penalty of death!"

"I don't care," he replied, seating himself in his customary chair.

She dramatically fell to her knees at his side. "Are you going to have me killed?"

"No… The memories of what we shared--and you so callously threw away--will undoubtedly haunt you until the day you die. _That_ should be punishment enough." Not that he truly expected her to care, but Arlos, at least, would miss her. _Had_ missed her.

"Um, yes, you're right! That should do it..." she agreed insincerely, grasping him in a quick hug.

"I'm over you," he declared, but before the wily thief could step away, he grabbed her arm. "What I am _not_ over, however, is the theft of my Mother's necklace!" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jackson and Mitchell both starting slightly, glaring at Vala with equally annoyed expressions. "I want it back! Only then am I going to tell you how to sever the link connecting you."

Thankfully, Vala immediately discontinued her sulky facade, settling back to her more customary nonchalance. "Be realistic. That necklace is gone, there's no way I can get that back."

The grin she suddenly wore said otherwise. "Then our business is done," Arlos threatened, rising from his seat.

"Whoa! Hang on lover boy!" Mitchell exclaimed, walking over to them. "We'll get your Momma's necklace," he promised.

"Then we have a deal."

"There's no deal!" Vala exclaimed.

"There's a deal!" Jackson shot back, joining Mitchell at the desk. "I am _not _staying linked to you for any longer than I have to, so you better help us find that necklace and find it fast."

She stubbornly crossed her arms. "And just when I thought you were beginning to like me, Daniel," she sulked.

His eyebrows rose perceptibly. "Like you? Who said anything about _liking_ you?"

"You're trying to tell me that the way you held me at Ver Eger had nothing to do with the way you felt about me?" she pouted, twisting a finger in one of the locks of hair hanging from just behind her ears.

"W-what? I didn't--I mean I did, but--" he spluttered. "Don't change the subject!"

Mitchell waved his arm between them. "Break it up, break it up! Now... where's the necklace?"

"I sold it." At the incredulous looks she received from Arlos, Mitchell, and Jackson, she added, "A girl's gotta eat!"

"Please," Jackson scoffed. "From what little I've seen of this world so far, it's a matriarchy with a strong emphasis on the family social structure. Although there have been few concrete examples of matriarchal or matrifocal societies on Ea--back home, the ones we've encountered in the last eight years have typically been very firm about ensuring that no one went hungry, even if food was scarce."

Arlos blinked, knowing without a doubt that Jackson was no ordinary mercenary. _Too observant, too intelligent, and too well-traveled by far_. How he wished he'd paid more attention to the details of the conversation he'd eavesdropped upon only a few short moons ago! His curiosity was piqued now.

"Tried to feed ya 'til ya popped, did they?" Mitchell chuckled.

"Worse than a flock of Italian grandmothers," Jackson agreed. "They thought I needed 'fattening up'."

"Oh, like the way my Momma cooked for Sunday breakfast! Hell, for any meal, for that matter," he amended, his curious accent taking on a little more... well, _accent_. "Nothin' like good ol' Southern-style home cookin' to feed a pair of growin' boys like me and my kid brother."

"Really? You going to invite me for Thanksgiving dinner so I can find out for sure?"

_Well, at least I know they aren't actually brothers_, Arlos marveled, having given up on trying to follow their rapid-fire obscure references. But he was still holding out for 'cousins', at least.

Fortunately, he wasn't the only one lost in the exchange. In the two years he'd known her, Arlos had never witnessed Vala at her wit's end--she was usually the instigator, not the recipient. "All right!" she exclaimed with a small moan of exasperation. "I'll show you where I sold the stupid thing, but I can't guarantee it's still there."

"It'll be there," Mitchell sighed, turning to follow her out the door before casting a quick glance at Jackson and muttering, "I hope."

"If ever I need that 'infamous Jackson luck'..." the other man growled as he left the testing room.

Arlos sank back to his chair, a sigh of tremendous relief escaping him. For the first time since Mother's ceremonial necklace vanished from its box, he felt he had a true chance of it finally being returned to him. Most ordinary men were defenseless against Vala, yet either of these two men was clearly able to hold their own against her, and the two combined were a serious force with which to be reckoned.

_And any man who can handle Vala_, he decided, a small smile spreading across his face, _certainly has her "father's" blessing!_

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Who'd have thought I'd have finished this one so quickly? I got stumped after the first scene, disgruntled that it wasn't yet up-to-snuff (read: not as funny as previous chapters) but Mitchell and Daniel took over and--to my utter astonishment--actually whupped Vala at her own game! I love it when my own stories surprise me. :)  
As always, big thanks to Moon Catchin' for the episode transcript.  
Lastly, check out my blog! 360 dot yahoo dot com slash cleothemuse! (minus the exclamation mark, of course) 


	4. Daniel's Dichotomy

**Daniel's Dichotomy** by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: All Ages  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: None, surprisingly.  
Episodes: Missing scene for "The Ties That Bind". Minor references to "Deadman Switch", "Summit", "Last Stand", "Sentinel", "Reckoning", and "Avalon". Tiny bit of foreshadowing for "Memento Mori" (you'll understand once you get there). Finally, this is the first of this series to feature a character from the previous series "The Thief", though you don't have to have read that to understand who she is. (And if you have gotten this far in _this_ series and haven't gone back to read those others, yet... you should!)  
Synopsis: Continues on in the fashion of the preceding "The Thief" and "The Archaeologist" series (plural). The bracelets are off, but Vala and 'her' Daniel are still connected. Poor Daniel!  
Status: Completed as of October 30, 2006

* * *

**Daniel's Dichotomy**

"_And yet a little tumult, now and then, is an agreeable quickener of sensation;  
such as a revolution, a battle, or an adventure of any lively description._"  
-- _George Gordon Noel Byron, _Byron's Letters and Journals

Once upon a time, excursions through the 'Gate were simple: step into the cold, exhilarating roller coaster ride of the wormhole, emerge on the other side to an alien vista, greet the natives, then go home a day or two later with a freshly inked trade agreement.

_Keep dreaming, Danny Boy_, he snorted, drawing a curious expression from Cameron "call me Cam" Mitchell. Maybe it was petty of him, but Daniel was going to keep using the younger man's last name for as long as he insisted on calling _him_--

"Jackson. Care to share?" the colonel asked, clearly amused by the sudden indelicate outburst.

"I've been around Jack O'Neill too long," he grinned, earning himself another puzzled look.

"You were teammates for... what? Seven years?"

"Uh, six actually, once you take out the year I was, uh..." He gestured skyward.

"Ah. That."

"Yeah. Just thinking how nice it would've been to have had a 'simple' mission through the 'Gate. You know, where nobody gets shot, killed, kidnapped, tortured, that sort of thing."

"Stick around with me for a while and I'll see if I can get General Landry to assign us some boring missions," Mitchell grinned.

_Gotta give him points for persistence, anyway,_ Daniel sighed inwardly, wondering if Mitchell would ever give up trying to get the archaeologist to rejoin SG-1.

"While nothing's really happened on this one just yet," he continued, side-stepping the topic altogether, "I can't help but feel that Vala's gonna sneak a nasty suprise or two on us before this is all said and done."

"You mean other than slappin' that bracelet on ya, nearly getting you both killed in that cave in England, and deliberately withholding information that could lead us to a necklace which may or may not be of some use in getting the two of you disconnected from one another?"

Daniel grimaced. "I meant since we left Earth for Adora."

"Oh. Well, that little story Lover Boy told us counts as a nasty surprise in _my _book."

"Good point," he remarked, though he had his doubts about the authenticity of Arlos' account after seeing the way he and Vala interacted with one another. But that wasn't the point he was trying to make, so... "Nobody's died yet. With my track-record on SG-1..."

"So you're saying you're back on the team?" Mitchell asked hopefully.

Daniel frowned. "Your powers of misinterpretation are truly astounding."

"Well, thank you, Jackson, I do my worst."

"Obviously."

He was spared Mitchell's reply by a sudden commotion behind him. Twisting around, he scowled at the whistles and catcalls greeting Vala Mal Doran and the attractive brunette following her through the crowded tavern.

"Hello, boys," Vala smiled. "Miss me?"

"No," Daniel replied, repressing a triumphant grin upon hearing Mitchell's voice in concert with his own and made all-the-more difficult to resist upon seeing the subsequent flash of annoyance on Vala's face.

"Two-for-one deal, love?" the brown-haired woman asked, her accent eerily similar to Earth's Slavic regions.

Vala grinned impishly. "Not a bad bargain at all, wouldn't you say? Yvondra Amicass, I'd like you to meet Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, and I believe you've already met Doctor Daniel Jackson."

"You have?" Mitchell asked.

"I thought we agreed no names," Daniel sighed, inwardly puzzling over where in the hundreds of planets he'd been that he could have met the newcomer.

"I already knew _your_ name, Doctor Jackson," Yvondra replied. "We were never formally introduced, but I was told then that your name was 'Gerron'."

The combination of location, face, and accent clicked. "You were Svarog's lo'taur."

She smiled, clearly delighted he remembered her. "You have an excellent memory, Doctor Jackson."

"Call me Daniel, please," he replied, pasting a 'pleased to meet you' smile on his face. "Given the number of times my memory's been tampered with, though, it's surprising I can remember my own name." Of course, there'd been a time or two when he didn't... most recently the two months he'd lived as "Arrom".

Yvondra laughed lightly, lifting a long leg over the bench and seating herself beside him. Not to be outdone, Vala walked around the table and claimed the corner on the other side, opposite Yvondra and next to Cameron.

After a beat of silence, during which Yvondra and Vala shared an un-interpretable look, Daniel cleared his throat. "So... what've you been doing since Svarog was killed?"

"Actually, I left his service immediately after the summit," she answered. "Word got around that Lord Yu's personal servant was less-than-loyal and the System Lords decided to take a closer look at the allegiance of their own slaves."

He winced. "I guess I asked a few too many questions at the station, then."

"It wouldn't have been a problem had the person you asked not been the pompous little twit serving Lord Ba'al. But not to worry, love, he got himself executed before his master left the summit."

He could feel his eyebrows rising toward his hairline. "Really? How many other lo'taur were put to death because of me?"

"Only two others, love, Morrigan's brainless pet and Bastet's spineless boot-licker." Yvondra rested her elbows on the tabletop. "The rest of us were far too clever for that. We either successfully professed our loyalty or successfully made our escapes. I chose the latter, but Svarog never got to hunt me down for stealing his personal tel'tac, as he, himself, disappeared shortly afterward."

"The Latonan Sentinel!" Mitchell exclaimed. "Musical combination lock on the device, child-like planetary ruler, and two dead ex-NID operatives." At the twin expressions of confusion leveled his way by the women, he added, "Great file, lots of detail."

"You were there?" Yvondra asked, dismissing the majority of the colonel's outburst.

"Uh, actually Jackson was. I just read all the mission reports."

"My _team_ and I were there," Daniel corrected.

"Then if you are responsible for killing Svarog, you have my gratitude," she smiled, sidling a little closer.

He shifted backward just a little. "Uh, really it wasn't me. I was just there. That's all." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mitchell start to open his mouth, but the glare Daniel leveled his direction apparently made him reconsider putting his two cents into the conversation.

"Oh, well that's disappointing, love," Yvondra pouted.  
"Uh, but is that gratitude enough to get me... _him_ the answer to the question I asked you?" Vala interrupted.

The statuesque brunette shrugged. "He says he was 'just there'."

"Ow!" Daniel exclaimed, reaching down to rub his wounded shin where Vala kicked him. "What was that for?"

"We have to _pay_ for the information we want, and that means supplying information in return!"

"Oh, you mean you're not going to _steal_ it this time?"

Vala huffed. "I don't steal _everything_ I want, you know."

Mitchell mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "No, you try to _kidnap_ the rest." It earned him a thump on the arm. "Ow!" he complained half-heartedly.

"My dear, I've heard stories about your legendary domination techniques," Yvondra began dryly, "but never would I have guessed I'd be so fortunate as to witness it first-hand."

"Yep, I'm feeling terrified of her already," the colonel chimed in cheerfully.

"You'd be astonished what I can do with a bed, wrist restraints, and pastries," the former host warned.

_Pastries?_ Daniel marveled, deciding quickly not to ask. He didn't want to end up being the recipient of a practical demonstration, after all. _Like I _need_ to give her another excuse to try to get her hands on me..._

"Y-_von_-dra!" Vala whined, sticking her lower lip out sulkily. Somehow he'd managed to miss whatever prompted the outburst, as well as the arrival of drinks for the two women.

"No free information, you know that," was the haughty reply. "Unless, of course, your companions can answer this: during the Battle of Dakara, how were the Replicators stopped?"

"Oh, that's easy!" Mitchell exclaimed. "Jacob and Sam Carter fired up the big ol' weapon at Dakara and--"

Yvondra held up her hand. "I did not ask how they were destroyed, but rather how they were _stopped_."

Daniel felt his blood drain from his face even as Mitchell professed ignorance of the difference between 'defeated' and 'stopped'.

"One of my sources told me that the Replicators inexplicably stopped their attack for several long moments, affording the weapon's defenders time to regroup. How were they stopped?"

"It wasn't in the report," the colonel explained. "I mean, sure, the whole stopping-in-the-middle-of-the-fight thing was mentioned, but no one knew for sure why it happened or how. Trust me, I've read all of their reports."

"The infamous SG-1 was involved," Yvondra pressed. "And here before me sits one of the original of that team."

"'Infamous'?" Daniel asked, suppressing a wince as Mitchell exclaimed the same. It was bad enough people thought they looked alike--for some reason he had yet to fathom--but now they were starting to _talk_ alike...

"In some circles," the former _lo'taur_ continued, imperturbable. "What did _your_ report say, Doc--Daniel?"

He gave an inward grin, pleased she'd phrased the question the way she had. "I never made it to Dakara."

"Truly?"

"Truly. No, before the Free Jaffa even attacked, I'd been captured by the Replicators and, well, tortured for information."

"Then surely you must have done something to sabotage the machines in your escape."

"Nope," he answered, battling the almost-overwhelming urge to grin in triumph. "I didn't."

"Sabotage?" Vala asked, confused.

"Escape."

Yvondra frowned. "Oh, you were rescued."

"Nope." In truth, it wasn't a pleasant memory--the source of several intense nightmares, actually--but he was gaining a bit of perverse satisfaction from watching the two women and Mitchell squirm, trying to figure out what _really_ happened. The truth, of course, had been disclosed to Sam, Jack, and Teal'c only after he'd had a rather spectacular nightmare during their fishing trip the week after his return from the Diner of the Cosmos. Even then, it'd taken enough bourbon to start a Kentucky Derby party before he could manage any details.

"I get it!" Vala exclaimed, squirming with childish delight. "You don't _consider_ it escaping since the Replicators were all destroyed and you could just walk off Scotch-free."

"Actually, the term is 'scot-free', which is believed to have originated as an alternative to 'on the house' or 'free of charge' The term originates in Middle English, where the word--"

"Thanks for the language lesson, Jackson, but you still didn't answer the question," Mitchell pointed out, drawn into the conversation every bit as much as the two women. "How'd you get away from the bugs?"

Sometimes, the younger man's hero-worship was almost as irritating as Vala's frequent and persistent attempts to get in Daniel's pants.

_Well, not quite._ And the leather trousers she'd picked out for him were tight enough to make it difficult for him to get into his pants in the first place.

_"_As Vala pointed out, all the 'bugs' were destroyed when the weapon at Dakara was fired. Unfortunately for me, I was being held aboard a ship--out in space, I might add--which was constructed entirely of Replicator blocks."

Yvondra shook her head. "No one can survive the vacuum of space for more than a few seconds without protective equipment."

"I didn't have to," Daniel replied, "I was already dead... and since I can't tell you why I'm _not_ still dead, I have to leave it to you to figure out... but I'm pretty sure that once you figure that out, you'll be able to determine how and why the Replicators stopped." That_ should keep her busy for a while._ And from the looks of things, Vala was pretty well dumb-founded. Mitchell's mouth kept twitching like he was trying not to grin.

"Can't or won't?" the former lo'taur asked after a quiet moment.

"Both," Daniel answered.

She sighed dramatically. "Well, I'll have to settle for that, then. Rest assured, Daniel, if you need anything further, I _will_ require more detail."

"Goody!" Vala grinned, clasping her hands together. "Well?"

The other woman laughed. "Sorry, love, but I _told_ you you should have gone to see Sarillis first... she wouldn't have made you pay anything to tell you Inago's set up only a few streets from her shop."

None of the names meant anything to Daniel, but Vala's expression suddenly fell into a shocked pout. "Why didn't you tell me that an hour ago?"

Yvondra stood and stretched. "I did. I specifically stated, 'you really should go see Sarillis as quickly as possible'. Now, if neither you nor the handsome gentlemen need anything further, I have an appointment to keep." Smiling sweetly, the brown-haired woman left the bar.

"I can't believe I just gave away highly-classified information just to find out you should have gone to see somebody _else_!" Daniel groaned, covering the top of his head with his hands. Peering up between his arms, he attempted his best glare. Sadly, it didn't faze Vala one bit.

"Highly classified? You hardly said anything."

"It's not so much what I _said_, as it's what I _didn't_ say," he growled. Specifically, the fact that he gave no reason for his capture by the Replicators nor ever denied having anything to do with stopping the Replicators... A smart woman like Yvondra Amicass was sure to realize what shape the missing pieces of the puzzle should take and fill in the blanks a little on her own, _especially_ if she had access to Tok'ra intell, as he suspected she did.

As the dark-haired thief reached across the table for the cup of bitter spirits in front of Daniel, he slapped her wrist, even though he didn't particularly care for the beverage. She affected a wounded glare, rubbing the affected appendage.

_It's the principle of the matter_, he inwardly smirked. Rising, he walked around to her end of the table. "Are we going or not?" he asked, hands on his hips.

Vala didn't immediately answer, turning to Mitchell, instead. The colonel deliberately slid his own stein a mere inch away from her.

The ensuing pout belonged on a bratty ten year-old, not on a grown woman of... however old she was. Who could tell with a former host?

With no sympathy coming from either man, Vala sighed heavily. "Fine, the two of you can go distract Inago while I'm gone. Go a few streets back toward the 'Gate and look for a portly Jaffa trying to swindle passers-by. I'll let him know you'll be stopping in to chat."

"And just where are _you _going?" Mitchell exclaimed as Vala stood.

"To go see Sarillis."

"And she is...?"

"A former bounty hunter and current mechanic, shopkeeper, and occasional landlady."

Daniel felt his eyebrows leap to his hairline. "Bounty hunter?"

"Oh, not to worry, Daniel... I'm not turning you in for the tidy sum that's still on your head," she teased.

"What, a day's rations?" he smirked, certain neither of us companions would understand the reference.

"Not exactly, but I'm told it doubled the _first_ time the Tok'ra reported your untimely demise. I must say, you look quite fetching for a twice-dead man." Winking, Vala managed to slap his leather-clad rear as she passed by, eliciting an involuntary gasp and leap forward that jostled the table when his hip collided rather painfully with the edge.

"More than twice," he retorted to her back, just _knowing_ his face was red.

"Ever count 'em all?" Mitchell grinned, trying not to look _too_ amused as Daniel soothed his wounded backside.

Vala was _so_ going to pay for that.

"Six."

"That's it?"

Daniel felt his eyebrows lift. "If you're counting only the times I was actually _dead_ and not just _declared_ dead, yeah."

"Wow... I've been led to believe it was a few more than that."

"Don't believe everything you hear," he warned. _Especially if it comes from Jack, Reynolds, or Dixon._ And if an off-world injury hadn't retired Ferretti, Daniel was certain the self-professed Italian would have been regaling the younger colonel with every Jackson Urban Legend ever conceived… and a few made up on the spot.

"Look, we need to go see if we can find this 'Iago' guy."

"'Inago'," Mitchell corrected. "Iago's a parrot."

"Whatever," Daniel replied. _Oh, yeah. I've _definitely _been around Jack too long._ "Let's go already. Vala and I are on a time limit, you know."

"Right! Time's a-wastin'!"

The streets outside the dingy pub reminded Daniel a little of the _souk_ on Abydos, and for a brief moment, he felt homesick. He'd been thinking of his adopted homeworld a lot, lately--especially since he'd made the decision to leave the SGC for Atlantis. He remembered how overwhelmed they had been to hear of the hundreds of worlds Daniel had visited and thousands more he hadn't, and wondered what the simple would have thought of his going off to another galaxy.

He wondered also what they would have thought of Vala.

_Whoa! You can stop _that_ thought right there, Doctor Jackson!_ There was no way in the known _universe_ he would have subjected the unsuspecting Abydonians to Vala's flirtatiously extravagant ways.

Not to mention her revealing clothing, sticky fingers, wandering hands, bold-faced lies, deliberate misdirects, cunning deceits--

"Whoa, there's our boy," Mitchell announced, interrupting Daniel's internal tirade. Thankfully, the colonel had been paying attention to where they'd been wandering for the last... fifteen minutes.

_Huh. Who'd have guessed?_

_"_So…business not so good, huh?" Mitchell asked casually.

The heavy-set weapons dealer looked somewhat disgusted. "Well, with no planets to conquer and no cities to loot… how's a Jaffa expected to put food on the table?"

Daniel had wondered that some, himself. Was the galactic economy ready to handle millions of Jaffa no longer employed by their gods in ceaseless warfare? "Listen, uh, a mutual friend of ours was supposed to send word that we were coming."

"What mutual friend?"

"Vala," he answered, starting in surprise when the Jaffa primed a zat and pointed at him. Knowing his eyebrows were making a bid for his hairline again, he raised his hands in the air, noting out of the corner of his eye that Mitchell was doing the same.

_Yeah, it's always nice to have a mission without any surprises…_

* * *

Author's Notes: 

I really, truly, honestly did _not_ mean to go this long without updating this story. Unfortunately, I hit a big honkin' Borg cube-like Writers' Block that started to go away at the end of August... then came right back after the idiots at the SciFi Channel made their little announcement. Then I had another musical to perform in, got side-tracked by the new MGM website, side-tracked again by yet another Seuss mutilation...

Yeah, so here it is! Hopefully, the next part won't be _nearly_ as hard to write as this one was. Oh, and this one has spawned a plot bunny for my own version of the now-classic "the rest of the team finds out what happened to Daniel after Replicarter got a hold of him" 'fic. Sometime. Maybe...


	5. Vala's Valence

**Vala's Valence** by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: All Ages  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: Not really.  
Episodes: Missing scene for "The Ties That Bind". Minor references to "The Powers That Be" and various "Dead Again Daniel" moments throughout the years, plus several characters from previous stories from within this series.  
Synopsis: Continues on in the fashion of the preceding "The Thief" and "The Archaeologist" series (plural). The bracelets are off, but Vala and 'her' Daniel are still connected. Poor Daniel!  
Notes: Spiffy new name for the series! Oh, and "valence" (not to be confused with "valance", which is a type of window treatment) in psychology means "the degree of attraction or aversion that an individual feels toward a specific object or event."  
Status: Completed as of January 12, 2007

* * *

**Vala's Valence**

_Each of us is full of too many wheels, screws and valves to permit us to  
judge one another on a first impression or by two or three external signs.  
__--"Ivanov", from Anton Pavlovich Chekhov's _Ivanov

It was the _crunch _that did it.

More specifically, it was the untimely demise of the object which _did_ the crunching that gave Daniel that annoyed, slightly hurt expression that_ really_ just made her want to kiss it better.

"Found your glasses," Vala grinned nervously, plucking the now-broken object out from underneath her right cheek.

Looking forlornly at the twisted metal, Daniel seemed to deflate. "I'm going to go see what Doctor Lee's doing."

Too bad kissing Daniel wouldn't fix his glasses, and he was too busy speeding out of his laboratory for her to test to see if the odd Tau'ri expression had any merit. She tipped her head back and sighed.

_Maybe not, but it would have been fun to find out!_

She couldn't for the life of her figure out _why_ he kept shooting her down, though, when she'd never before had much difficulty wrapping men around her fingers. Impishly giving the tablet Daniel had been working on another poke, she slid off the table and turned back around to collect the magazines she was supposed to be perusing. A quick glance at her current guardian proved the woman was still as stonily silent as ever. It was a shame the lovely Sergeant Westerholm had the day off, as she _really_ could use a little "girl-talk", as Tracy had called it. She'd also been an invaluable assistant in getting Vala undergarments, toiletries, and several of the marvelously _droll_ uniforms for the duration of her stay on Earth, not to mention an adorable lingerie set that, sadly, didn't seem like they'd see much use.

Or _be_ seen in use.

Maybe this new sergeant--Finney, was it?--would be friendly too, especially given how under-represented women seemed to be on this base. Her mind made up, Vala cautiously approached.

"Hello," she began nervously. "You know we really haven't had much of a chance to talk yet. As I'm sure you know, my name is Vala Mal Doran." The sergeant continued to ignore her. "Anyway, I was hoping you and I could get to be friends."

Finney didn't even blink.

"Look, I'm supposed to go to some place called 'Washed-up-town' tomorrow and--"

"Washington."

"Pardon?" _So she's not mute after all!_

"The city's name is Washington, ma'am. Also known as the District of Columbia."

"Oh, is that where Daniel gets his coffee?"

"No, ma'am. That would be the _country_ Columbia."

"Oh. Well _that_'s confusing," she remarked. Finney didn't react. "So... how would I go about learning more about this fair planet so I don't make that mistake in... the District of Columbia and embarrass Daniel?"

The sergeant's eyes flickered slightly downward. "Reading seems like a good start, ma'am."

"Oh, you can just call me Vala."

"Thank you, ma'am."

_Ah _ha! _Her lips twitched. There _is_ a sense of humor in that woman!_ "And what might I call you, Sergeant?"

"Sergeant," came the monotone reply. "Or Finney. For real variety, ma'am, you can call me Staff Sergeant Finney."

Vala grinned. "I like variety, Staff Sergeant Finney." She straightened out the magazine she'd rolled up and presented it for the sergeant to see. "Unfortunately, this _Variety_ magazine is _dreadfully_ boring! It just keeps going on and _on_ about who was wearing what at what awards show and I don't even know _any_ of these people!"

"Of course not, ma'am."

"What I'm _really_ interested in are the real people," she declared emphatically. "Not these fake-looking creatures called... actors? What are the 'normal' people like? How do they react to different situations? Somehow, I don't get the impression the lovely men and women of this base are typical citizens of this planet. Like Daniel, for example."

"_No_ one is like Doctor Jackson, ma'am."

The quick response stunned her. "No one?"

"That's correct, ma'am."

Intrigued, she leaned back against the work table. "He and Colonel Mitchell look so much alike, though."

"Not really," Finney disagreed. "And I wasn't talking about appearances, ma'am."

Vala crossed her arms. "Really? What do you mean, then?"

For the first time, Finney's expression changed, to a frown of confusion. "You don't know?"

_Would I be _asking _if I did?_ Not wanting to antagonize the woman after she'd _finally_ gotten her to talk, though, she shook her head and replied, "Know what?"

"Doctor Jackson's the reason we _have_ a Stargate program, ma'am. He's the one who made the 'Gate work when no one else could, and he and General O'Neill defeated Ra."

Vala didn't think opening the Stargate was all that impressive, but defeating Ra certainly was... even if she'd heard about it already from Sarilis Camir, her bounty hunter friend. "Go on," she encouraged.

Finney took a deep breath. "He's saved the planet hundreds of times, ma'am, just because he can think faster than pretty much anyone else. He has several Ph.D.'s, speaks more languages than I can count on my fingers and toes and has died more times than my daughter's hair."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Your daughter's hair is deceased?"

"Sorry, ma'am... play on words. My daughter colors her hair... very _unnatural_ colors, too."

"Ah. Clever! But, uh... he doesn't look dead to me."

"That's because he always comes back, ma'am."

_Would you look at that! Stone-Face Finney practically _glows_ when she talks about Daniel_. So had Tracy, for that matter, when Vala plied _her_ for information yesterday. "That's fortunate."

"Yes, ma'am." As though suddenly realizing she'd said too much, Finney immediately straightened again.

"What are Ph.D.'s?"

"Degrees of education, ma'am."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you have to study for several years to be licensed to practice. My daughter is going for her Ph.D. in sociopsychology."

Vala sighed. "And what does _that_ mean?"

"She studies human behavior, ma'am. How individuals react in certain situations."

"Everyone reacts differently, don't they?" she shrugged.

"Not according to my daughter," Finney replied. "Just last year, she pegged my husband as a textbook case for a mid-life crisis."

"Textbook case?"

"A clinically-proven and documented example. Sure enough, two months later the bastard filed for divorce and ran off with a younger woman... ma'am."

Intrigued, Vala dropped her magazines and propped an elbow up on the lab table. "Tell me more."

Hesitantly at first, but gaining in momentum, Finney began to describe how her husband bought a new car--a Tau'ri form of transportation which was also utilized as a symbol of wealth and status, Vala discovered--started wearing different clothes, and would go on sudden "business trips" out of state. Thanks to her daughter's keen observations, the sergeant was prepared for the separation from her husband.

"No offense, ma'am, but you resemble his new girlfriend."

Vala winced. "I guess that explains why you didn't like me at first."

Finney angled her head. "I suppose so, ma'am. I'm sure my daughter has a name for that behavioral tendency, too. Actually, she claims that it's part of the reason she dresses in short skirts and chunky boots and dyes her hair blue: people tend to underestimate her."

"Seems like a sound strategy to me."

"Very sound, ma'am. While the other students snicker behind their hands at her 'unprofessional' appearance, my Julia's half-finished her thesis on stereotypes." Finney was now beaming with pride.

"Now _this _is the sort of thing I was talking about," Vala grinned, pointing at the sergeant. "I want to learn more. I don't suppose there's any chance I can have a heart-to-heart with... Julia?"

The older woman shook her head. "No, ma'am. I'm afraid she doesn't have the necessary security clearance."

_If there's _one _thing I've learned about the Tau'ri thus far, it's that they _love_ this precious "security clearance"._ Vala wanted nothing more than to see _something_ other than the boring gray walls of the underground base. Between her experience with the SGC and the cave at Avalon, she half-jokingly wondered to herself if the entire _planet_ was a subterranean-dwelling culture.

Fortunately, tomorrow she was being permitted to leave the base with Daniel! Of course, the only reason she was going anywhere at all was because he would die if they were separated, though she doubted any of the government officials of this world would care if _she_ expired. Still, despite the escort of the blustery General Landry and stoic Teal'c, it was _sure_ to be an adventure.

"Would you happen to know of any other way to study up on this... sociopsychology, Staff Sergeant Finney? It sounds like a _fascinating_ topic. Useful in many applications!"

"Uh, do you have computer access, ma'am?"

_Officially, or have I "acquired" it for myself?_ Figuring that it wouldn't be wise to point out that she'd sneaked a peek at Doctor Lee's pass codes while the pudgy scientist studied the Ancient communication device from Avalon, Vala shook her head.

"There should be limited public access in the base library, ma'am... though I've never figured out why."

"Since everyone who works here has a security clearance?" she questioned.

Finney nodded. "It might be some sort of government rule, then. Congress is full of self-serving idiots and the top brass at the Pentagon have never been terribly skilled at making logical decisions... Generals O'Neill and Hammond being the exceptions, of course."

"Of course," she agreed. _Finney didn't "ma'am" me that time! Making progress, Vala, making progress..._

"Anyway, if you'd like, I could show you how to access the internet--that's a world-wide network of computers that store an incredible amount of information. Some of my daughter's term papers are posted online, actually, if you want to read those. There should also be a few books or magazines which might help, too."

Vala snatched up the "lifestyle" magazines from the lab table. "What are we waiting for, Staff Sergeant Finney?"

"Just Finney, ma'am."

"No first name?"

"Bridget, ma'am."

The younger woman grinned inwardly. "Then I will call Bridget _if_ you'll call me Vala."

"Agreed, m--Miss Vala."

Not _quite _what she'd asked, but definitely an improvement. She spared a glance at the wall clock. "Well, we'd better make it fast, Bridget! Daniel's been gone over fifteen minutes already, so that leaves us little more than a half-hour to gather a few research materials and find him again."

"Now?"

"No time like the present!" Vala practically bounced to the door. "Which way?"

Face crinkling in confusion--and doing _nothing_ for the already-homily features--Bridget led the way. Clearly, she was perplexed as to why Vala was showing so much interest in her daughter's chosen field of study, but the self-made con-artist had ulterior motives. Some of these personality studies could probably be applied to humans all over the galaxy, and likely a number of non-humans, too. The "mid-life crisis" trait seemed to be pretty much universal, as even Goa'uld experienced a form of it. Of course, their version usually meant they switched to a younger host or wasted valuable resources on an attractive new slave.

_And the egotistical bastards think they're better than humans. Ha!_

A fair portion of pulling off a successful con required anticipating your victims' reactions. Again, Vala could see only benefits in giving Julia Finney's term papers a thorough investigation. It would certainly be far more enlightening than the ridiculously frivolous "entertainment" magazines had afforded, despite the lovely clothes on display on the artificially-attractive actors and actresses. After all "acting" didn't necessarily mean "fake", as she knew a planet of genuinely nice people who enjoyed putting on performances for their "god" Qetesh.

Last but certainly _not _least, she might finally find out what motivated the frustrating Doctor Daniel Jackson. His wife had been dead for years, but he apparently hadn't had any serious relationships in the almost-six years since. Well, he _had _been dead for one of those years himself. Still, it obviously wasn't from lack of "volunteers", given the way Lisa Rosenbaum's eyes had glazed over as she talked. Susan Henessey--the other nurse at the lunch table yesterday--had been similarly affected.

_That's not the _worst _thing_, Vala reflected, paying only half-attention to Bridget's instructions on the use of the computer and internet--both of which the younger woman already knew how to use, but knew better than to admit she did. _The worst thing is, I'm getting caught in his "fan club", too!_ Which _really_ wasn't fair, since she'd never had to aggressively pursue anyone's attention like she'd tried time and time again with Daniel and failed. Miserably, it seemed.

But _boy_ was it fun trying!

"Are you listening, ma'am?"

Vala jumped. "Yes! Type the keyword into the box and click the button to search."

The sergeant nodded. "That should just about do it then, ma'am. Vala."

"Can I ask you a question, Bridget?"

"Of course."

"Does your daughter happen to be the same size as me?"

"Probably. Why?"

Vala grinned, deciding it was time to kick up the heat. After all, hadn't one of her dear, close friends advised her to _not_ play "hard to get"? "I'd like to borrow one of her skirts and those lovely boots you described... for tomorrow. Somehow, that rather boring skirt set someone was kind enough to bring me just doesn't _quite_ send the right message about who I am, if you know what I mean."

Bridget's eyebrows rose. "But you're going to be appearing before a Senate panel, ma'am. People don't--"

"Now aren't you the one who was saying that Congress is full of self-serving idiots? Well, I'm hoping for a little of that underestimation Julia gets."

Her new-found friend didn't look terribly convinced, but shrugged. "I'll check."

"Thanks, Bridget!" Vala beamed. "Oh, and one more thing... actually it'd be a _huge_ favor. I'd like to apologize to Daniel this evening... in private."

_And here I was worried that charming lingerie set was going to be wasted..._

* * *

Author's Notes:  
It's BAAAAAAA-ack! At first, I didn't think this was as fun as some of my others have been, but then I realized it's ALWAYS fun when Vala's scheming! 


	6. Landry's Luncheon

**Landry's Luncheon** by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Older Kids  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: Vala comes with her own warning label, doesn't she?  
Episodes: Missing scene for "The Ties That Bind".  
Synopsis: Continues on in the fashion of the preceding "The Thief" and "The Archaeologist" series (plural). The bracelets are off, but Vala and 'her' Daniel are still connected. Poor Daniel!  
Notes: It's BAAAAAA-ack! After taking a considerable hiatus to write "Honor", of course.  
Status: Completed as of June 7, 2007

* * *

**Landry's Luncheon**

_"If you value a man's regard, strive with him."  
__-- George Bernard Shaw_

Twenty thousand feet in the air was _not _the best place to be right now. Resisting the urge to thump his forehead against the window, Major General Henry "Hank" Landry gazed out at the cloud-spotted terrain below and wished he was down there. Anywhere but _here_.

"Vala, just leave the tray table _up_."

"Yours is down," the irrepressible thief observed.

"I'm _working_," the archaeologist snapped. "Or at least trying to, when you aren't _bothering_ me."

"Since when am I bothering you?"

"When are you _not_?"

And on and on it went, the thief and the archaeologist bickering back and forth like squabbling children. A quick peek at Teal'c showed that the big Jaffa's jaw was tightly clenched--a sure sign that his patience was near its end, or so he guessed. One could never tell with a Jaffa, and he could have been amused but struggling not to show it, for all Hank knew.

"--Messing with my books, which is _almost_ as bad as you 'manhandling' my artifacts!"

He whipped around, eyes widening in surprise. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Teal'c leveling his own expression of surprise at the arguing pair.

As though suddenly aware of how his statement could be misconstrued, Doctor Jackson frantically attempted to recant. "Uh, I meant when you're playing with my things." He was a lovely shade of scarlet, now. "Crap."

"Hmmm... Is it really necessary to inform the General and Muscles? You surprise me, Daniel! I'd taken you for the type to keep your private life... private."

Hank thought it was a good time to interrupt. "And it'd better stay that way." The "extra-curricular" activities of the people under his command were _not_ his business, let alone when one of the persons involved wasn't even a member of the SGC.

_And to hear Jack tell it, Da--Doctor Jackson's not really under _anyone_'s "command"_. Come to think of it, the only people on this plane he could order around were sitting in the cockpit, flying the jet.

"--And I _definitely_ don't want to know how you got past Sergeant Finney to get in my room last night!"

"Children!" Hank barked. "Don't make me separate you two!"

Vala huffed and Doctor Jackson glared, but they got the hint and shut up. Teal'c gave the general an approving nod and returned his attention to the paperback sci-fi novel in his hands. A short moment later, there was a startled yelp as the archaeologist jumped up, grabbed his laptop and heavy book and dashed to the row across the aisle from where he had been sitting. His face was still trying to match the color of a tomato but he didn't say a word.

"Doctor Jackson?" he sighed.

"Don't ask," the younger man moaned. "Just don't ask."

Thankfully, the pilots called back to the cabin to announce the start of their approach to Andrews Air Force Base. Vala was then forced to fasten her seatbelt instead of pursuing Jackson across the aisle. Mentally, Hank commended Doctor Jackson for his excellent timing, though he was certain the archaeologist felt the relocation hadn't been soon enough.

A limousine was waiting for them on the tarmac, ready to whisk them away to the Pentagon. Hank never envied the men assigned chauffeuring duties their jobs, as D.C. traffic was a nightmare even on a _good_ day. At 1700 Zulu, it was the ninth circle of Hell. Fortunately, their driver was skilled, crazy, or the perfect combination of both, delivering his passengers swiftly and safely to their destination.

When they stopped, Hank held out a hand to stop Teal'c from opening the door. "Let's go over the rules one more time, shall we?" The dark-haired thief gave him a look that was astonishingly similar to the times during her rare visits that he would remind the teenage Carolyn of a curfew: equal parts disgust, boredom, and "let's humor him".

"No talking about the Stargate or any other planets except little ol' Planet Earth to anyone," she recited. "No mention of the Goa'uld or Ori or any other non-Earth races or organizations."

"And?" he prompted.

"Stay close to Daniel?"

"Well, _that_," the archaeologist acknowledged, rolling his eyes. "Keep your hands to yourself, remember?"

"Oh, yes! That."

"And that includes me," he reminded her, provoking a sulky pout.

The delay chafed, as Hank wanted to be in the Senate committee chambers and back out as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the Judiciary Committee had had some sort of crisis which required an emergency meeting to take place, and the Chairman of the Appropriations Committee thought it would be a generous bipartisan gesture to push back the closed session with the SGC until the situation could be resolved.

_And _this_ is why I changed my mind about running for the Senate two years ago_, he scoffed inwardly. Good thing, too, as being retired but otherwise unoccupied left him free to accept Jack's offer to command the SGC. _Which is something of a mixed blessing, come to think of it..._

Surprisingly, Vala behaved herself, though her rather unorthodox attire drew some curious looks. Hank didn't want to know where she'd acquired the tiny skirt and knee-high boots. The woman was so resourceful she was scary. She was the sort he imagined could be dropped in the middle of a foreign country and own half of it in a year's time.

At the moment, she was currently enjoying the process of handing over her newly-minted security badge to the guards at the checkpoint. Hank had argued in favor of a permanent ID instead of a temporary pass, as no one could say for certain how long she and Doctor Jackson might be joined at the proverbial hip. Her access allowed her almost anywhere Doctor Jackson could go, but didn't give her the same privileges of rank and information.

Not that Doctor Jackson ever availed himself of the privileges of rank. Based on the things Hank had read, his idea of delegation within his department--before he'd handed over the reins in order to go to Atlantis--was to take on as much as he could possibly handle himself before assigning translations and surveys to anyone else. It was a trait Hank found particularly admirable, which only enhanced his belief in the archaeologist's as-yet untapped leadership skills.

They were asked to wait in the lobby, and were shortly after greeted by a familiar, cheerful voice. "Well, aren't _you_ kids all gussied up!"

"Indeed," Teal'c replied with a quirk to his lips, extending his hand for the warrior's forearm-clasping handshake. Jack O'Neill was only too happy to oblige, but refused Doctor Jackson's hand in favor of slapping him on the back.

"Well, well... if it isn't the archaeologist-snatching vixen herself. How ya doin', Vala?"

Pleased to be so warmly greeted, the thief in question clasped her hands in front of herself and twisted in place. "Why, simply _marvelous_, my dear General," she replied with a cheek-stretching grin. The linguist rolled his eyes.

"Well, that's good to hear. Not giving Daniel too much trouble, are ya?"

"General, I am _shocked_ you would suggest such a thing!"

Doctor Jackson affected a false smile. "At the first opportunity, I'm going to kill her!" he announced brightly.

Jack's lips quirked. "That's my girl." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "So... anyone up for an early dinner? The Judiciary thing's not expected to be over 'til 1900, at least."

"That'd be lunch for us," Hank reminded him. "It's only just past noon in Colorado."

"I'm starved," Vala chimed in cheerfully.

"You're always hungry," Daniel pointed out.

"What can I say? I have a... voracious appetite."

"So it would seem," Teal'c agreed. Doctor Jackson merely looked horrified.

"Hank?"

"Sure thing, Jack," he replied, shaking his head. "Miss Mal Doran, remember those rules..."

To his amusement, she threw him a jaunty--though left-handed--salute. "You can count on me, sir!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Doctor Jackson muttered.

They piled back into the waiting limousine, Jack giving the driver instructions before settling into the rear-facing bench with Vala seated between him and Teal'c. The woman primly folded her hands into her lap and crossed her legs, looking every inch the model of the modest lady were it not for her short skirt and patterned hosiery. She seemed to be making a conscious effort to behave herself, for which Hank could only be grateful.

Doctor Jackson, however, was regarding her with suspicion, as though waiting for the other shoe to fall. The general found his paranoia amusing, though he could certainly appreciate that the younger man had come by it honestly. Due to the nature of the energy which bound the thief and the archaeologist together, he had spent nearly every waking hour in her presence, able to escape for only short periods of time before being forced to return. Even their on-base quarters were close, and if Hank understood the earlier outburst correctly, she'd even managed to find a way to sneak into his assigned room.

_What I _don't_ understand,_ he mused, _is why Jack seems to find this so amusing. The man he claims is his best friend could _die_ if this bracelet situation isn't successfully resolved!_ Part of the seeming lack of concern could _possibly_ be attributed to Doctor Jackson's oft-proven ability to evade or overcome certain death, but Hank thought that such a line of thinking would be far too callous for Jack.

Before he had time to ponder it further, the limo stopped, and Hank looked out the window and shook his head with amusement. "Trust you to have found this place already, Jack."

"How could I not?" he answered, clutching his hand to his chest as though shocked to his core.

"'Sign'?" Vala asked, puzzled.

"Sin é," Doctor Jackson corrected, pronouncing it "shin-ay". "It's Irish."

"What's it mean?"

"That's it."

Vala crossed her arms. "Well, you don't have to be _mean_ about it, Daniel, it was just a simple--"

"In Irish Gaelic, it means 'that is it'," he sighed. "Please tell me they serve something other than corned beef and cabbage."

"A few things," Jack answered, sharing a grin with his fellow general. Having spent more than a few hours watching sports events in this pub himself, Hank shook his head. The menu definitely contained more than that. "Oh, and if you kids still have time to waste after we finish eating, there's a mall right over there."

Vala perked up as though she could see through the building to the aforementioned shopping center on the other side. "Really?"

"Four days and she already knows the words 'credit card' and 'shopping mall'," Doctor Jackson groused.

"It's been over a week since I first arrived, darling," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but that was supposed to only a very, _very_ short term visit," he replied. "And we spent a good deal of it unconscious, remember?"

"I'm just trying to learn the important aspects of your culture," she answered.

"Kids," Jack warned. "Don't make me separate you two." Hank chuckled, hearing the echo of his own earlier words.

Vala surprisingly didn't cause any trouble, asking Doctor Jackson to explain certain dishes to her before informing the server she wanted the "fill-it mig-none", much to the linguist's horror. She knew the Air Force was picking up the tab, too, and Hank guessed that figured into her choosing one of the most expensive items on the menu. After the food arrived, however, she kept herself--and everyone else at the table except Doctor Jackson--amused by filching the toppings from his salad.

After she'd stolen the last tomato, she declared in an exaggerated whisper that she needed to "make a visit to the little girls' room". For their mutual safety, Hank insisted Doctor Jackson accompany her to the restroom door, at least. When they disappeared around a corner, he shook his head.

"That woman is enough to drive a man to drink," he remarked.

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "Daniel Jackson has grown quite fond of her."

"Fond?" Hank gaped. "They fight like... like adolescents!"

"Well, _yeah_," Jack replied. "Daniel and I fight like five year-olds some times. He likes her, he just won't admit it out loud, and maybe not even to himself. She's good for him, though. I haven't seen him this... this..."

"Animated," the Jaffa supplied.

Jack nodded. "Yeah, this 'animated' in a long time. Certainly not since the damn Replicator skewered him. He's been _living_, but not really 'alive', you know?"

_Yeah, I think I do_, Hank realized. He and Kim might have been divorced for a number of years, now, but he could still recall some of the passionate arguments they'd had in the early days of their whirlwind romance, before the passion gave way to bitter disappointment. If there was anything in his life he regretted, letting his relationships with Kim and Carolyn slip through his fingers was top of the list. Jack's underhanded manipulation had put him in a position where he _might_ be able to reconcile with his daughter, and if he played things correctly, maybe even his estranged wife.

His pager chose that moment to go off, and a quick glance at the numeric code on the screen told him that the Chairman of the Appropriations Committee would _finally_ be able to see them in half an hour. He took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "We'd better get the check paid," he suggested, leaning a little to the left to watch the returning duo quietly but vehemently bicker again. "Jack, will you do me a favor? Contact the _Prometheus,_ and have them ready to beam us back to the SGC. Doctor Jackson might like that woman deep down inside, but I don't think the rest of us will survive another plane ride."

"You got it," Jack grinned.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Back with a bang! Should be one, maybe two more stories to go on "Binding Arguments", which will put us into the final series! 

I'd like to thank the D/V Forum for the "manhandling his artifacts" joke! Who knew such a simple phrase could go so wrong... Another thanks to the Giggling Marine EOD for the filet mignon silliness!


End file.
